


Gluttony

by arminda



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Belly Rubs, Body Image, Canon Universe, Community: asscreedkinkmeme, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, Hand Feeding, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Stuffing, altair is a glutton, fight me, malik is so sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arminda/pseuds/arminda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was no doubt that Altaïr had an appetite. Even before he began his serious training as a master assassin, Altaïr had a bad habit of snacking frequently and eating more than he should. Fortunately for him, he had a fairly high metabolism. As he trained more, he ate more; simple. He ran all around creation picking off guards and targets and escaping, so it was only natural for him to get hungry so often. </p><p>Or so he thought. </p><p>Altaïr began to love food, and picked up a fairly bad habit of snacking whenever he had the opportunity to. Discretely, he would stop by some vendors and pick up some fruit before returning to the assassin bureau. Either that, or he might grab a full on meal before returning to his duties, even if he wasn't particularly hungry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gluttony

**Author's Note:**

> filled a kink meme prompt!! 
> 
> "Ive no idea how it got into my head but it did and now it wont leave. Altaïr, when not doing something that requires both hands, always has a fruit or snack that hes munching on. Hes perpetually hungry, or at least seems like it. Always eating and snacking. All that assassinating sure can give a guy an appetite. 
> 
> Essentially anon wants a writing where either Malik, Kadar, Maria, whomever catches onto Altaïr's eating habits and suddenly stuffing fetish. I dont care how it happens or how far you take it, but theres the prompt"

It was no doubt that Altaïr had an appetite. Even before he began his serious training as a master assassin, Altaïr had a bad habit of snacking frequently and eating more than he should. Fortunately for him, he had a fairly high metabolism. As he trained more, he ate more; simple. He ran all around creation picking off guards and targets and escaping, so it was only natural for him to get hungry so often. 

Or so he thought. 

Altaïr began to love food, and picked up a fairly bad habit of snacking whenever he had the opportunity to. Discretely, he would stop by some vendors and pick up some fruit before returning to the assassin bureau. Either that, or he might grab a full on meal before returning to his duties, even if he wasn't particularly hungry.

Whenever he was doing something that didn't involve both hands, it was common to see Altaïr munching on something. It had gotten to the point where Malik would label him a glutton behind his back. 

In some cases, it wasn't exactly fair, since Altaïr was very active. He felt an almost perpetual hunger in his stomach, and he sure ate like it. 

Altaïr seemed oblivious to his eating habits, and did not seem to notice, or care, as they slowly got out of hand. He would waltz into Malik's bureau eating a fruit that he had purchased or perhaps a couple slices of pita bread. Altaïr would attempt to offer some to Malik, so at least he wasn't completely selfish. Malik would always decline, and instruct him not to make a mess in his bureau. 

As Altaïr continued to eat absentmindedly, he failed to notice that he had started to put on some weight. Not nearly enough to hinder his work, but just enough so that his stomach had started to accumulate a soft, thin layer of pudge over his abdominal muscles. His robes covered it enough, but Malik's keen eye could see it whenever Altaïr disrobed. 

Malik, at first, paid it no mind since it didn't particularly bother him. Who was he to judge what Altaïr did in his spare time? 

Altaïr would sometimes even ask for some of Malik's food whenever they ate. Usually Malik was gracious enough to spare a cut of lamb or some of his bread, and Altaïr cherished whatever he could get. 

Whenever Malik tried to get Altaïr to swim, Altaïr always retorted that he was simply too full, and would get cramps, having just eaten. He used this excuse so often, simply because he was almost always eating. 

Malik was about ready to confront Altaïr. The more Altaïr ate, the more curious Malik got. Why was the assassin eating so much? What could he hope to gain, aside from a few pounds? Was this simply a bad habit, or something more? Malik tried to wrap his head around this sudden spike in appetite; was he eating because he was guilty? Perhaps he was overthinking it, Malik thought. Perhaps Altaïr was just hungrier than most. 

And yet, something was strangely appealing about it. Watching Altaïr shove food in his mouth, wiping the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand, flicking his tongue across his lips to clean up any remains. 

And one day, Malik decided he was going to try something. 

Altaïr dropped down into the outer patio of assassin bureau and walked up to Malik's desk. 

"Safety and peace--" Altaïr opened his mouth to greet the bureau leader, but was interrupted when he heard his stomach growl. He squinted, hoping Malik hadn't heard. Unfortunately for him, this wasn't the case. Malik turned around and raised his eyebrows, and Altaïr's hands flew to clutch his abdomen. 

"Hungry already? Your day has barely begun." Malik tutted. Yet behind his cold response, Malik was secretly intrigued and in a strange way, aroused. Just how far could Altaïr take his appetite? Could he perhaps have Altaïr under his thumb, with just the simple incentive of food? 

Altaïr closed his mouth and searched for the words to say. All he could do was nod, clear his throat, and await his instructions. 

Malik tried to hide his smile as he placed the white feather on his desk. Altaïr grasped the feather and turned around to leave, when Malik grabbed his arm. Altaïr raised an eyebrow, and Malik placed a small fig in his hand. 

"This should sustain you until later." 

Altaïr eagerly accepted the fig with a simple nod of his head. Malik figured he was still embarrassed. "Later?" Altaïr questioned. 

"You are coming back here, are you not?" Before waiting for an answer, Malik gestured to the exit. "Hurry up, novice." 

Altaïr took a bite of the fig, and exited the bureau. Malik heard Altaïr shuffling up the wall, and he smiled to himself. He hadn't heard news of many other assassins traveling in the city, so hopefully he would get no interruptions. He wondered if Altaïr would be gone long, and knew he had to gauge his time wisely. Of course, all of his plans might be ruined if Altaïr decided to eat before returning to the bureau. Perhaps that would just enhance the fun, Malik thought deviously. 

By the time Altaïr returned to the bureau, night had fallen, and he was exhausted, not to mention starving. And yet, he had no real drive to get any food. Malik's fig had held him over for a while, but soon adrenaline kicked in, and he had no real need to eat after that. 

He clutched his stomach angrily and shuffled over to the grate, hoping no guards were following him. Despite the excruciating hunger he felt in his belly, there was nothing more he wanted than to sleep. The warm night wind blew and rustled through his robes as he dropped down into the bureau. 

A faint aroma of food filled the bureau. Perhaps Malik was finishing his dinner, and might consider sharing. Altaïr looked around, hoping to find Malik, but he was nowhere in sight. He sighed and walked over to the corner of the bureau, where a multitude of pillows and blankets littered the floor. It seemed that he was the only assassin in the bureau, and he cherished his solitude. He made a small nest of pillows on the floor and lay down, placing his hands on his stomach. He closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing. 

In a few minutes, Altaïr opened his eyes to see that the gate overhead had been closed, blocking all entry and exit to the bureau. He rubbed his abdomen absentmindedly as he felt the hunger in his stomach return with a soft grumble. 

"Back so late?" Malik called out. Altaïr grunted and rolled over on his side to see Malik standing in his doorway, leaning slightly on the doorframe. "Judging by the noises from your stomach, you have not eaten." 

"Judging by the aroma in the bureau, you have already eaten." Altaïr retorted. 

Malik choked back a snort. "Yes, I have. A while ago." He started, and Altaïr frowned and closed his eyes to go back to sleep. "But this food is not for me." His mouth twitched into a wry smile as he saw Altaïr open one eye in curiosity. "It is your dinner, novice." 

At this, Altaïr sat upright eagerly and removed his hood. "Oh? What have I done to deserve a home cooked meal?"

"You have not done anything. And if you continue to tease, you will not get anything." Malik frowned. "I have simply noticed your increase in appetite, and figured you need a hearty meal now and then." 

Altaïr rubbed the back of his head, and pulled a pillow over to place against his stomach as he felt it lurch. 

Malik relaxed his eyebrows. "I am not sure what foods you prefer, but I have seen you eat everything on your plate, so I am sure you will appreciate what I have done." He cleared his throat. "It is best you remove your robes. I don't need them getting in the way or getting dirty." 

Altaïr raised an eyebrow questioningly and smirked. "So eager to get me out of my robes?"

"Just stop talking and do what I say, or else your food will be thrown out the back window." 

Altaïr snickered and stood up. He turned around and slowly started to disrobe. He heard Malik's footsteps as he padded back to his room. Altaïr huffed and placed his clothes and weapons on the floor and kicked them to the side. 

He sat down cross-legged on the floor and shifted from side to side awkwardly. Was Malik going to come back? Should he call his name? Then again, he might annoy him, and his dinner really would go flying out the window. 

"Altaïr," Malik called from his quarters. "Come and carry this out." 

Altaïr shuffled over to the entrance, and encountered Malik, who had disrobed as well. Malik gestured to a wooden tray with a wide variety of food, covered by a small cloth. "You aren't eating that in here. So take it out." 

Altaïr grabbed the tray almost drooled at the mere thought of what the tray was possibly loaded with. 

Malik shooed him out of his room and carried a bowl of stew and a spoon out with him. Altaïr placed the tray on the floor gently and sat back down. He attempted to pull the cover off the tray and reveal its contents, but Malik, having set down the bowl, swatted at him. 

"I did not say you could eat yet." Malik choked back a smile as Altaïr looked up at him with the biggest pout he could muster. 

"Malik, you know of my hunger, and yet you are denying me my meal?"

"Do not forgot, I was the one who made this in the first place, Altaïr." Malik pressed a hand against Altaïr's chest, and pushed him down so he was leaning gently against the pile of pillows. "Be calm, novice. You will get your food." 

With that, he sat down cross legged on the floor and pulled the cloth off of the wooden tray, revealing an assortment of flat bread, couscous, steamed vegetables and meat. 

Altaïr could feel his mouth salivating and his stomach gurgled in anticipation. Malik raised his eyebrows in amusement and gently prodded Altaïr's bare stomach with his finger. "Seems like somebody is hungry." He teased playfully. 

All Altaïr could do was nod helplessly and beg for a bite of food. 

"We should start with the soup, I think. Since everything else is still hot." Malik mused. 

"We?" Altaïr questioned. 

"Do you think I was going to let you eat this all by yourself?"

"That is not the case?"

"I am not eating any of your dinner if that's what you are worried about. I am only here to ensure that you eat everything I have made, as well as," he cleared his throat. "Get some enjoyment out of this affair." He choked out awkwardly. 

Altaïr could care less what he was rambling on about and reached for the spoon eagerly. Malik tutted and held it just out of his grasp. "Make sure you are comfortable." Malik waved a hand to motion for Altaïr to lay back down. "Open your mouth." 

He placed the ladle in the bowl and scooped out an overflowing serving. He scooted over to sit by Altaïr's side and carefully fed him the stew. 

Altaïr slurped it gratefully, and it was gone in an instant. 

"Take care so that you do not swallow any chunks of meat without chewing first." Malik huffed while refilling the spoon. "I do not want to be responsible for your death." 

Altaïr nodded obediently and opened his mouth again hungrily. "This is excellent, Malik." He beamed. The soup was so flavorful, and it filled his belly with a comforting warmth. He shuddered as he accepted another spoonful. Altaïr couldn't be happier. He was being personally spoon fed delicious soup, by someone whom he was attracted to, to say the least. 

Malik tried to hide his blush as he continue to fed Altaïr carefully. He couldn't help but eye Altaïr's abdomen as he ate, or his lips as he slurped the soup eagerly. He cleared his throat and tried to distract himself. 

"I think the meat has cooled off enough." To Altaïr's dismay, he set the still half full bowl of soup on the floor and balanced the tray on his lap. He waved some of the steam away and held up a small piece of lamb to Altaïr's mouth. 

Altaïr opened his mouth greedily and chewed the meat, scooping up some of the grains and vegetables with a piece of flatbread. Altaïr had a bad habit of chewing with his mouth open, which annoyed Malik to no end. However, on this particular night, it happened to be a bit attractive.

Altaïr moaned slightly after swallowing his food. It was completely heavenly. The lamb was flavored excellently, and the sides complemented the meat perfectly. Altaïr could feel his stomach begging for more and more after each bite. With each bite Malik fed him, Altaïr felt as though he was becoming hungrier rather than satisfied. 

Malik was astounded; he had seen Altaïr eat on many occasions, but never with this much gusto. It was amazing to see how much he was packing away in such a short time. 

Altaïr picked up the large bowl of soup without warning and proceeded to drink directly from the bowl, hardly stopping. 

"What brings about this intense hunger, Altaïr?" Malik asked curiously, holding out another piece of meat. 

Altaïr simply shrugged and thought it over himself. He truly had no idea, save the fact that he had not eaten the entire day. And yet, even on days when he hadn't eaten, he never ate this fast. "Maybe it is your excellent cooking." Altaïr mused, accepting the meat and requesting more. 

In spite of himself, Malik smiled slightly and adjusted himself so he was closer to Altaïr. He could see Altaïr's once flat stomach filling up with the food he had inhaled, and he quickly averted his eyes, in case Altaïr should see his interest. Altaïr shifted around on the pillows and grunted, placing a hand to his mouth. He closed his eyes and let out a loud burp before looking at Malik sheepishly. 

Malik squinted and sighed. He took a rather large piece of flatbread and proceeded to scoop up the grains and vegetables, carefully creating a thick wrap. He wiped a crumb off of the side of Altaïr's mouth and motioned for him to open his mouth. Altaïr's eyes widened. 

"I can't fit that entire thing in my mouth, Malik." 

"I've seen you fit larger." Malik teased and held it closer to his mouth. "I know you want it." 

And Altaïr really did want it. He shrugged and opened his mouth. Malik grinned and shoved the wrap in. Altaïr chewed weakly for a couple minutes, cheeks bulging. He swallowed and took another large swig of stew to wash it down. He exhaled heavily and leaned into the pillows. 

"Giving up already, novice?" Malik took a small bite out of one of the remaining slices of flatbread. 

Altaïr frowned, and gestured for more food. Malik chuckled and leaned closer. 

"My, my." He mused. "Seems as you've just about cleared through the lamb."

Altaïr's face fell. He was actually a bit disappointed, since the lamb was so delicious. It was quite a lot of meat however, and he was starting to feel a bit full. He peered over at the tray and reached for a flatbread. 

Malik swatted at his hand. He shifted the tray's contents and used the flatbread to pick up a fairly large piece of mutton. 

"There is mutton as well." Altaïr said, stating the obvious. 

Malik simply nodded and raised the bread to his mouth. Altaïr accepted gratefully and grinned. The mutton was just as good as the lamb. It was fatty and slightly greasy, and the various herbs danced on his tongue. He licked his lips and opened his mouth for more. 

"So eager, it seems." Malik tutted. 

Altaïr nodded and polished off the remainder of the soup. He set the large bowl down and scooted it to the side, placing a hand on his stomach. He could feel that his stomach was full, but he still had room for more. The entire bowl of soup had actually taken up a lot of room, not to mention what seemed to him like a seemingly endless supply of meat. Usually, he would stop eating at this point, but something kept him going. Was it Malik's cooking, or perhaps the fact that Malik was hand feeding him? All other things aside, he thought, Malik seemed to be enjoying himself. He was oddly happy; why ruin it for him? He was getting a hearty meal out of it, so they both won. 

Malik eyed the empty bowl of soup, and let his eyes travel to the hand that Altaïr had placed on his stomach. He continued to scoop up the food with the bread and carefully fed his companion. 

The fatty meat was incredibly heavy, and started to settle into Altaïr's stomach, causing him to feel more full with each bite. He burped quietly and groaned. He rubbed his hand down his bloated stomach and shifted around in the pillows. 

Malik cleared his throat and shrugged. "If you cannot finish, don't force yourself, novice." 

Had he overestimated Altaïr's stomach? He had made enough food to feed at least two fully grown assassins, after all. Altaïr sat up and pulled the tray closer to him. He had not, it seemed. Malik grinned mischievously. 

Altaïr began to feed himself at this point, and set his mind on working to finish each and every last crumb on his plate. Malik raised an eyebrow and placed his hand on Altaïr's swollen stomach. 

"I did not expect your belly to round out this much, Altaïr." 

Altaïr frowned and tried to swat Malik's hand away. "Is this supposed to deter me from finishing?" 

Malik refused to remove his hand and shook his head. "Not at all." He kissed the assassin's cheek patted his stomach gently. 

Altaïr, in spite of himself, blushed and nearly choked on his food. 

Only a couple hunks of mutton remained, and the vegetables were almost gone. He had finished the couscous long ago, and there was only half a slice of flatbread left. He sighed heavily and placed his hand on top of Malik's. 

Slowly but steadily, he finished everything on his plate. He kept eating, despite the obvious signals his body was sending him to stop. He stomach ached, and seemed as though it threatened to explode at any moment. He swallowed the last chunk of meat and moaned, clutching his tight stomach with both hands. He sunk into the pillows and said nothing, listening to his stomach gurgling angrily. 

"I am assuming you will not have dessert?" Malik knew he was pushing it. However, to his surprise, Altaïr nodded slowly. "I purchased some pastries from the local food huts." He briskly walked over to his desk in the other room and returned with a small cloth wrapped bundle. 

He untied it and placed it by Altaïr's side. He knew he shouldn't expect him to eat this as well, but he was so tempted to see him try. 

Altaïr unwrapped the cloth and revealed a sticky, sweet cake like pastry, which seemed to be glazed in honey. His stomach said no, but his appetite said yes, and he plucked a slice from the rest. There were only four, anyway. He figured he could be able to eat them all. He bit into it and sighed. He could recognize this taste anywhere; Malik had gone to his favorite food hut in Jerusalem. 

He slowly ate the first two pieces and took a moment to compose himself. His stomach protested every bite and each movement. Malik could feel his body heating up and he made himself comfortable, leaning against the pillows next to Altaïr. 

"Perhaps you need some help." He purred, placing his hand near Altaïr's navel. He applied light pressure, causing Altaïr to groan slightly, but he did not object. Malik resorted to rub soothing circles into Altaïr's protruding tummy. 

Malik could feel the tightness of Altaïr's swelled stomach and couldn't believe that he was able to pack away so much. 

The third dessert was finished, and Altaïr melted into the pillows with each soothing rub. 

"I take it you are enjoying yourself."

All Altaïr could do was mumble helplessly through a mouth full of pastry. He swallowed the last of the cake and positioned himself so he was lying down slightly. 

Altaïr groaned as he felt a cramp well up in his unhappy stomach. He scooted Malik's hand up to where the dull pain was and gestured for him to continue his rubbing. 

Malik grinned and danced his fingers across the upper portion of his lover's stomach, causing Altaïr's face to form into a sheepish smile. He moaned contentedly and exhaled deeply. 

Malik leaned over and placed a series of kisses across Altaïr's rounded stomach. He sat on his knees and worked his way up Altaïr's bare abdomen, all the while rubbing his hand across Altaïr's belly. He repositioned himself and patted Altaïr's grumbling stomach playfully. 

"Somebody seems very full."

"It is not entirely my fault." Altaïr unsuccessfully tried to defend himself. "Your food was just so delicious I could not help myself." 

"It is your fault then, for not having any self control." He mused. "This was enough food for two novices." He smiled smugly. 

Without warning, Malik leaned over and kissed Altaïr's sugar coated lips. Altaïr moaned and became vicious. He cupped Malik's face with both hands and brought him closer, scooting up carefully so he was in a slight sitting position. His stomach protested the movement with a low rumble, but he paid it no mind. Malik broke away and positioned himself so he was on his knees. He placed his hand on Altaïr's stomach and pressed it against his navel, causing Altaïr to groan softly. 

Malik drummed his fingers against Altaïr's stomach and fingered his bellybutton. He plucked at it, teasing it and kissed Altaïr again, thrusting his tongue in his mouth. Altaïr closed his eyes and rubbed his hands down Malik’s back. Malik dug his fingers against the side of Altaïr’s stomach and and arched his back. Altaïr mumbled into Malik’s mouth. 

Malik dug his nails into Altaïr’s stomach as Altaïr traced the small of Malik’s lower back with his fingertips. Altaïr moaned heavily and allowed Malik to search his mouth with his tongue. All Altaïr could do was submit to the pleasure of having Malik toy with his belly. 

Malik broke away as the kiss got sloppy and sighed heavily. Altaïr smiled yawned. His full stomach began to make him feel incredibly sluggish, and he leaned back into the pillows. Malik grinned and pushed some pillows aside so he could lay next to the assassin. 

“Are you planning to sleep out here?” Altaïr mumbled sleepily. 

“I do not see why not.” Malik shrugged and pulled a blanket over to cover him and Altaïr. 

“Malik,” Altaïr started. Malik looked over at him. “I, uh. Enjoyed it when you…” He trailed off, embarrassed. 

“Rubbed your belly?”

“Mm.” Altaïr slunk down further into the pillows. 

Malik chucked and placed his hand on Altaïr’s stomach again, caressing it gently. “Like this?” 

Altaïr yawned and nodded, slowly closing his eyes. His overfull stomach gurgled quietly and settled, allowing Altaïr to finally be content. He burped softly one last time and exhaled, soon falling asleep with a smile at Malik’s loving touch. 

“Goodnight, novice.” Malik snuggled closer to him, and closed his eyes, hoping that they could perhaps do this again sometime. He was sure Altaïr wouldn’t object as well.

**Author's Note:**

> sue me
> 
> read it on kinkmeme here : 
> 
> http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2158.html?thread=12337262#cmt12337262


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